Logical Insanity
by thefinalfritter
Summary: Takes place during HBP. Dumbledore has a plan, and Hermione and Severus must work to implement it before the end of the year. SSHG. The summary sucks, just check it out!
1. An old man's plan

LOGICAL INSANITY

AN: This story takes place during HBP. I realize this is most certainly NOT what would happen in canon and I am not trying to imply that in any way. Of course as always I own nothing(disclaimer). Also, this is SS/HG so if that's not your cup of tea, it's the wrong place for you.

AN2: I can't believe I am posting this because I have a horrible habit of not updating. I'm not trying to turn you away, I am just hoping that if you review a lot, it will keep me motivated. I would really like to finish this story. I think it is going places, so please review!

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Light tread marks were beginning to wear into the carpet where a thoughtful man was pacing monotonously in his office. So lost in thought was he, that it took him several minutes to notice the imprints he was leaving, and even then, he only half-heartedly waved the charm that caused the signs of his worry to disappear.

Slowly, he slouched down in the large chair that accompanied his desk. The fact that anybody had rarely seen him agitated to a state where he might pace or slump was not lost on him. He idly stared at his hands, lost in deep thought before he noticed that the fingernails on his left hand were in the need of their annual trimming. Not wanting to leave the task to his forgetful memory, he fished in his desk drawer for a pair of small nail clippers, choosing to do it the muggle way as he always did, and began clipping his nails into neat ovals. Sometimes, the muggles just did things more practically.

The object of his worry was not a small one. Ever since the beginning of the school year, he had been faced with a dauntingly confusing, not to mention moral problem, that might just literally be the end of him. He had been contemplating it for days now. There just seemed to be no simple solution, not even to his well experienced mind.

Not a sound broke the deafening silence of the almost dark room except the occasional clipping from his fingers. _Clip, clip, clippity-clip_, he hummed softly to himself and bobbed his head to the beat.

It really was amazing, he later reflected, how engaging your mind in deep thought while engaging your body in a mind-numbing activity can produce fantastically genius ideas. He had been over those haunting words again and again trying to figure a way out of the catastrophe he had unexpectedly found himself in.

_And should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?_

And then it hit him like a rogue bludger and he chuckled in delight at just how ingenious he really was. _Of course, you silly old man. The deed he has been ordered to perform. The deed indeed!_ He groped around in his candy bowl for a rather large lemondrop, but took two instead, to celebrate.

He sensed someone outside his office door but didn't care to make himself look like he had been doing anything ordinarily productive. He had a feeling he knew who it was. The wide door swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped in, squinting, proving his intuition was as sharp as ever.

"Albus, I came to discuss the behavior of Peeves with you. It seems he-" she was already saying as she walked in, but quickly stopped. "Albus, why do you have that silly grin on your face, and why on Earth are you sitting alone in the dark?" She pursed her lips in confused disapproval.

Dumbledore stood up wordlessly and smoothed down his robes. He walked around the desk and put his arm around Professor McGonagall and began escorting her out of his office.

"My dear Minerva, what would you say to a nice cup of tea in the kitchens? For celebration."

"Celebration of what?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Why, the celebration of life, of course," he added as if it were self-evident, and he shut the door behind them, but not before throwing a spell over his shoulder to return his nail clippers to their rightful spot. Neatness always was important. Professor McGonagall, chalking it up as Dumbledore's usual eccentricities, shrugged to no-one in particular and followed him down the stairs.


	2. Disappointments and Suspicions

AN: Just a reminder this takes place during HBP but I just want everyone to know I don't _actually_ think this is what happened. Also SPOILER ALERT! If you haven't read book 6 DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER. It contains sensitive information. Otherwise, continue on…

Hermione Granger slowly trudged through the corridor that led to Gryffindor Tower, sweating like a polar bear in July. She couldn't remember a single time when she had been this loaded down with schoolbooks that she could barely move. And to think - she thought she had been assigned a lot of homework for Ancient Runes! Professor Sinistra had easily topped any homework load Hermione had ever been given, with a few simple strokes of chalk on the blackboard.

She shifted the weight on her back a little, hoping to ease the strain. Well, she wasn't going to be surprised if she had a tension headache later that afternoon.

After what seemed like an hour of walking, the portrait of the Fat Lady loomed in the distance, seeming to be infinitely far away. With a great effort in Gryffindor determinism, Hermione crossed the threshold overtop of infinity and arrived, breathless, at the Common Room entrance.

"Animagi," she breathed out heavily, and after seeing Hermione's weary state, the Fat Lady promptly swung open to admit her. Hermione climbed in wiping the sweat streak off her forehead with the back of her hand.

Her eyes darted around the Common Room finding it, much to her pleasure to be nearly empty. There were a couple of sixth years huddled in one of the corners by the fire, but after closer observation, Hermione decided they were being quite and actually studying.

Fairly pleased with the atmosphere of the room and her muscles screaming to be relieved, she quickly headed to where the only other occupants of the room were sitting. As she approached, both Harry and Ron glanced up, looks of pure relief washing over their features. That could only mean one thing… She knew that look…

Ron gave her a phony grin, obviously hoping to win her over, but his expression drooped slightly as Hermione put her hands to her hips, not unlike Professor McGonagall, and stared at them disapprovingly.

"Not to be rude or anything, but what could you two possibly need help with already? You've only had one class for Merlin's sake. You should _see _all the books I have got to read by Friday," she lectured. As if that served as a reminder she slipped her bag off her shoulders and allowed it to fall inelegantly to the floor with a loud thud. She took a seat in between Harry and Ron and closed her eyes, willing the tightness in her shoulders to disappear. When she opened them again, they were still staring at her.

"Mione!" Ron pleaded. "Have you even _looked_ at the stuff Snape assigned us, yet? I can't even cast a wordless spell, let alone answer all these questions about them…"

"Yeah, come on Hermione, we got all the way through number six before you came up," Harry said holding up his half-scribbled paper as evidence.

They stared at her again. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine…," she said exasperatedly but you two are going to owe me you know."

"We know!" Ron exclaimed happily.

She grabbed the book from in front of the boys and swiveled it around so she could see it, then her eyes widened at what she saw.

"You two _do _realize we are supposed to go all the way through number 48 and you've spent nearly an hour just doing six problems, right?" she asked. Harry and Ron both grinned sheepishly.

"Ok," she sighed in resignation. "Well look here. On number seven it asks what is the most common form of wandless magic used." At the dumbfounded looks she received she replied, "Oh, honestly. _Apparition? _There's only one whole chapter devoted to it in Hogwarts, A History. You know, the thing you'll be testing on later this year?"

Harry and Ron furiously scribbled the answer down on their papers. _Oh, well, _Hermione thought. _I'll never get Arithmancy or Runes done at this rate, but at least I can get my stuff for Snape done while I'm helping Harry and Ron. _

Thankfully, the two boys seemed to be halfway willing to work on the assignment with her and they completed the whole thing before it was time to leave. Hermione cheerfully deposited her Arithmancy load in her room before accompanying her two best friends down to potions.

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Hermione anticipatorily waited for the beginning of class while Harry chatted idly with Ernie MacMillan. The dark, dungeon door that had so long been synonymous with fear and disappointment with many of Hogwarts students (all except the Slytherins of course), would quite possibly be taking on a fresh, new meaning today with the presence of a new instructor. Whatever changes Professor Slughorn chose to enact, however, Hermione doubted she would quickly forget the benefits of the old potions class.

Sure, Harry and Ron, and just about anybody she could ask, hated Professor Snape and would never before today have spoken of Potions with anything but loathing in their voices, but Hermione liked to think she was rather more open-ended than most. Yes, Professor Snape was unfair and every bit as insufferable as he accused her of being, but while his teaching methods seemed questionable at best, the effect his fear-inducing method of teaching had on the students general effort in learning, wasn't lost on her. After all, potions was not a subject to take lightly or put less than your best effort in. The results could be disastrous. She wondered idly, if he missed the subject at all. Then, just as she registered Ernie speaking to her, the door opened.

Hermione followed Harry and Ron to a table near the front gazing around, noticing the only real differences to the room where temperature and quantity of light. Then, she noticed the four potions bubbling around, and made a quick effort to identify all four before class began.

Hermione began inhaling the scent of the potion nearest to their table. Really, the boys couldn't have picked a better table if they tried. As Professor Slughorn went to retrieve spare books for Harry and Ron, Hermione sat in lazy contentment, something she rarely did, just enjoying the vapors from the potion so close by.

Of course, as soon as the Professor began asking questions referring to the potions, Hermione's mind snapped out of the vapors and back into her usual attentative self. She identified the Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion (easy!), giving a small wink to Harry at the mention of its name. None of them would ever forget her second year, when she accidentally turned into a cat.

Then, he asked her about Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world that smells like what attracts you, and she had rapidly launched into a description of what she could smell without giving it a second thought.

"…and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and ---"

She stopped and knew her cheeks were turning pink. She had been going to say Ronald Weasley, but she highly thought he might be offended or neither one of them would ever live it down in front of the Slytherins.

Thankfully though, Slughorn abruptly changed the subject to praising her as the best in the year (she couldn't believe Harry had said that!) and gave her 20 points, something that had _never _happened in Potions before.

And then, after some more lecturing, and having Felix Felicitis identified, they were off, brewing Draught of the Living Death. Hermione had never actually made it before, and it was fairly complicated but she was very confidant that she would have the best sample by the end of class. She always did, whether Snape admitted it or not.

In between stirs, Hermione noticed Malfoy concentrating considerably harder than usual. Either he really wanted to get lucky, or he was jealous and wanted Slughorn to notice how smart _he _was.

She finished chopping her roots and after tediously cutting her sopophorous beans had a few short moments to relax. How much easier this was without having to encourage and reasurre Neville the whole time. And then she noticed the dark shade her potion had inherited.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?" Harry's voice softly interrupted her temporary concern, but annoyed her nonetheless. She nodded impatiently wondering what he could possibly want with the knife, and began vigorously stirring counterclockwise as the book instructed.

Hermione knew her hair was beginning to frizz out like she had touched an electric socket from the humidity of the potions, and her face was sweating profusely for the second time that day. Not to mention she was a little irritable at the undesired results her potion was displaying. She glanced up and noticed, _very _much to her chagrin, that Harry's potion was much more the recommended shade.

"How are you doing that?" she demanded in a slightly more huffy tone than she had meant to aquire.

"Add a clockwise stir ---"

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped. Clearly, he was going to be of no help. She must have missed something…

She began scouring the instructions in her book while Ron cursed fluently from around the table. She was guiltily pleased to notice that at least _his _potion had the decency to look like thick licorice. She returned her eyes to her book just before Professor Slughorn called time and she had to stop stirring.

The tension was killing her as he made his way around the tables, passing quickly by Malfoy (she noted with pleasure), stopping to give her a satisfactory nod, making the knot in her stomach tighten, before arriving at Harry.

"The clear winner!" he cried immediately, making Hermione's gut sink. It wasn't that she wanted the Felix particularly, but she couldn't believe she had been bested at the most complicated potion yet…by Harry. Oh, Harry wasn't particularly bad at potions, but he certainly wasn't better than she was. She couldn't understand why she could make any mediocre potion better than him, but this hard one had been so easy for him.

She regarded Ron, who was sharing the same incredulous look that she was. Their eyes met and she looked away, feeling embarrassed. She was also guilty that she was jealous of her best friend's success. After Harry received his Felix, Hermione made to leave the room with Harry and Ron before Slughorn kept her back.

"Miss Granger," he said excitedly, "How would you like to join the first Slug Club meeting? I'm going to hold it on this Saturday. What do you think?"

"Well, er ---" she started. Harry hadn't seemed to enthusiastic about the whole thing so she was a little wary.

Seeming to sense her hesitation he added, "I assure you its only for talented and gifted young witches and wizards. You are the best in your year after all…" he fixed her with a piercing smile. Feeling severely disappointed at her performance for the day and possibly trying to compensate she replied.

"Umm..I guess."

"Great! Fantastic!" he beamed. "I'll look forward to seeing you there, Miss Granger!"

She smiled weakly and left the room.

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Severus Snape raged silently to himself as he diligently covered the third year's in-class essays with several comments scribbled hastily in red ink. His thoughts, however, were not on Owen Cauldwell's atrocious essay on the dark creature Kappa's. What his brain _was_ currently enveloped in, was the thought of Albus Dumbledore. He knew that man was up to something.

Ever since he had unfortunately but necessarily taken that unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy the old man had been secluded in his office, often times sitting alone in the dark. Such behavior was so unlike the headmaster, Severus had felt absolutely horrible, seeing what he had reduced him to. Never had he seen something have such a profound effect on Albus Dumbledore.

And then, the day before term started, and as he was methodically preparing his lesson plans Minerva had stopped by to inform him he needn't worry about the Headmaster any longer.

"And why is that?" he had snarled at her.

"Because, he invited me to the kitchens for tea, and to celebrate life," she replied sincerely.

"What?" he had asked dumbly.

She just shrugged her shoulders. "Don't ask me, I went to discuss Peeves with him, and found him sitting alone in the dark, clipping his nails. And then, he became suddenly elated, and invited me down for tea. He's been jovial ever since."

Severus was actually at a loss for words.

"Just thought I'd let you know, you've been looking paler than normal lately." And she was gone, leaving him there with his thoughts.

Snape was fairly sure Minerva didn't know about the vow, and hadn't known why the Headmaster had suddenly gone into a state of anxiety. Therefore, she hadn't been too terribly suspicious when he suddenly became his old self again. But Snape knew better.

Oh, yes, he knew quite a bit. When he had made that vow to Narcissa Malfoy he had no way of being completely sure of what he was promising, only suspicions. But a few inconspicuous questions the next day and he had solid evidence that the task he had voluntarily taken on, was the murder of his mentor, Dumbledore.

As soon as he had reported his findings to Dumbledore, the Headmaster had taken to his office, coming out only for meals, and even then being lost deep in thought. Snape supposed that such behavior would be quite reasonable for a normal man who just found out he was going to be killed soon, one way or another. He wouldn't know himself, he'd readily die and be freed of his servitude.

So he had felt horribly guilty, possibly even worse than the first time in his life he had betrayed someone he loved. And then, all of a sudden, the Headmaster was his jovial old self again. Something didn't add up. Dumbledore could have finally cracked, his ugly fate looming over him, and become oblivious to the real world, but Snape knew him better than that. No, Dumbledore was planning something.

Which was why Snape was currently scribbling D's on satisfactory papers and probably pressing a little harder than necessary.

Albus Dumbledore was scheming behind his back, and it involved him to be sure. That's why it hadn't been mentioned yet. It was absolutely killing him, to watch the Headmaster act happily when Snape knew of the horrible event that was inevitably going to happen. Dumbledore was deliberately keeping it from him, and that's why he was furious.

He didn't know what the old fool was planning (because surely he was a fool to have any sort of hope in the matter), but he knew it better not be what he thought it was.

AN: Hopefully the next chapter will come soon but I have so much college work all the time I get behind. I hope you all appreciate me staying up till 1 AM to finish this. Also, there are some HG/RW hints in here (well, maybe only 1) but that is necessary since in HBP J.K. Rowling made it that way. But rest assured it will eventually be HG/SS instead.

And last but not least review please! Constructive criticism is welcomed as well! Thanks!

thefinalfritter


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